Boots
by Alaska829Snow
Summary: Emma is the only one who can turn Regina's bad day around. One-shot. Hiatus Fluff. Established Swan-Queen!


**Hiatus fluff. Promise to update my actual story by the end of the week. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was the type of day where every little thing that could go wrong did, _in fact_, go wrong.

It was pouring rain and she had forgotten an umbrella—she spilled coffee all over her white button-up shirt and the front seat of her car—she had a relentless migraine that simply wouldn't leave her.

She knew it was a complete overreaction—the fact that she was near tears.

But Regina was starting to believe that _this_ was her new norm—her standard. She was beginning to learn to expect the worst—because, more often than not, it was _exactly_ what she got.

Life seemed so exhausting lately—more exhausting than ever. She marveled at the fact that the tiniest task now seemed impossible. Like, for example, going to the store to pick up a carton of orange juice for her son. It was a simple errand which turned into an ordeal when she found herself among the residents of Storybrook; the people who still hated her, wanted her to pay, couldn't fathom the rumors of her redemption. She couldn't prevent her face from flushing bright, hot red in response to their hateful glares. Nonetheless, she tried to keep her chin up as she walked down the aisle pushing a shopping cart.

Yes, it was _that_ kind of day.

So, as the former-mayor pulled into her driveway, the sight of her home was overwhelmingly comforting. She quickly gathered her belongings out of the car and strolled up the walkway. When she reached the front-door she inserted her key into the lock, felt it click open and pushed through the entrance.

She took a step into the hallway and stumbled forward, almost losing her balance entirely. When she recovered, she realized what had caused her to trip: a pair of well-worn, brown boots carelessly left in the middle of her floor.

She _should've_ been pissed—it should've been the final straw—the thing that sent her over the edge on this day from hell.

But, instead, she smiled.

She smiled because she knew what it meant: Emma was over—and she hadn't been expecting to see the savior tonight.

She caught herself exhale in relief. She felt her entire demeanor change.

She picked up her pace and walked into the kitchen, realizing she had utterly rejected her mother's one piece of advice: _love is weakness. _

On the contrary, love was the _one and only_ thing holding her mess of a life together.

_The love she felt for her son. _

_The love she felt for his biological mother. _

_The love she felt for Snow White's daughter. _

_The love she felt for Emma Swan. _

She rounded the corner and saw Emma sitting at her kitchen table, flipping through a magazine and sipping a diet coke.

"Hey," the blonde looked up at her, eyes welcoming her home. "I tried to call you."

"My cell phone is dead," Regina explained. She removed her jacket and scarf and set her grocery bags down on the table. "I left my charger upstairs."

"Oh, well…I hope it's cool that I'm here; Henry let me in."

Emma treated their situation so delicately; she treated their three-month old, confusing, frustrating, exhilarating relationship as if it could fall apart at any moment. Regina knew, realistically, that it _could. _But, somehow, it didn't. Somehow they held each other together.

"Of _course_ it is. I didn't notice your car though…and I thought you had dinner with your parents tonight?"

"I walked," Emma explained as she got up and started putting away the items in the grocery bags. "And they cancelled on me."

Regina merely stared blankly in response; she watched the sheriff maneuver around the kitchen as if it was her own.

She knew if she were better at this, if she were a better girlfriend, she would tell Emma how grateful she was for the assistance.

But she _wasn't_ good at it. Not at all. All she _could_ do was stand in the middle of the kitchen, unable to speak or move.

"What's wrong?" Emma took a step towards her, as if to observe her up-close. "You seem…._off _or something."

"It's nothing. I just had a shitty day."

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothing big," she admitted, suddenly feeling trivial, "just a million little things, I suppose."

"I can see that from the coffee stain on your shirt." Emma grinned as she ran her fingers over the now-dry stain.

"Yes, well…it would appear that I'm a klutz today."

"Welcome to my life twenty-four hours, seven days a week."

"You don't have to remind me of that, dear."

"Seriously though….everyone has randomly bad days."

"_I _seem to be having one too many of them."

She didn't say it with a hint of self-pity in her voice. It was a fact—a fact no one could argue with.

"What can I do to help? I want to help."

"Honestly, all I want right now is to sit down for five minutes before I have to cook dinner."

"Well then: the couch is calling your name, your majesty," Emma instructed, pulling the brunette by her hand towards the living room.

"Someone has her bossy-pants on tonight, I see."

"Why don't I just order dinner? So you don't have to cook at all?"

"Because you'll order something repulsive."

"No," Emma promised. "You can pick out something healthy."

"You know what? Just get pizza…Henry will be thrilled and, frankly, I'm too tired to care about nutrition."

"How about I order broccoli as a topping so you can _pretend_ it's healthy?"

Regina nodded in agreement and sat down on the couch; Emma walked back into the kitchen to retrieve the phone and place the order.

It wasn't lost on the Queen that she missed Emma the second she was out of her immediate vicinity. That type of vulnerability, that complete loss of control was something she hadn't wanted to ever know again. And yet, for some sick and twisted reason she couldn't exactly grasp, she was _enjoying _every second of it.

"It will be here in twenty minutes," Emma announced as she strode into the room, before sitting down next to Regina. "You can just relax, alright?"

"You got them to deliver?"

"Yeah, of course I did? It's a pizza place?"

"They usually don't deliver here."

"This is a tiny town—what do you mean they don't deliver here?"

"They don't deliver to _me," _Regina clarified. "You know, _evil queen_. It must be because they recognized it was you placing the order. I guess no one is going to deny the savior her junk food."

"Regina, they seriously don't deliver to you?" Emma inquired, utterly horrified. "What the hell? That's not even _remotely_ alright."

"I promise you I don't order pizza enough for this to be an actual problem."

"That's _not_ the point. Just wait until they get here, I'll take care of it. I've give them a piece of my fucking mind."

"While I appreciate your long-standing offer to scream at people on my behalf, can we just _please_ not make this a big deal? Wasn't the whole point of ordering food to avoid stress?"

"Fine," Emma accepted the logic. "I just don't like when people treat you like shit. It's hypocritical."

Regina sighed—there was something strangely satisfying about hearing the word 'hypocritical' fall out of Emma's mouth. Because it was the same word she used to describe this town a thousand times before. Ever since Emma had learned _her_ side of things, she had become overly sensitive, overly protective.

"You don't have to call first—when you want to come over, you know." She spoke up, changing the subject. "I think we're past that, don't you?"

"I mean, I agree but I didn't want to…"

"_Push me_," Regina completed the thought. "I know you didn't and I appreciate that. But you shouldn't…you shouldn't have to have Henry let you in the house."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you should be able to let _yourself_ in. I mean we need to get you your own key."

Regina watched Emma's mouth fall open, surprised at the unexpected offer. "You're _sure_ about this?"

"Yes, I'm quite certain. I like coming home to find your boots in the middle of my hallway."

"Are you calling me a slob?"

"For once I'm actually not—it's one habit I'm permitting you to keep."

"Oh, yeah? Who has her bossy-pants on now?"

They always ended in this place—the banter and teasing. And, mostly, Regina loved it. But she felt suddenly serious—and she didn't want to be in _that_ place. She wanted to be in a place where she could explain to Emma that she valued their relationship more than anything else.

"What I'm_ trying _to say is…."

"Wait, don't say it," Emma interrupted her. "I want to say it first."

"Say what first?"

"I love you," the blonde blurted out.

It was Regina's turn to be shocked by the unexpected. She felt every last muscle in her body tense up at the admission.

"Shit," Emma muttered, "that's not what you were going to say, was it?"

"You_ love_ me?"

"Yes," Emma confessed, certain it was too late to turn back. "Like….to a point that I actually get mad at you sometimes—because I don't particularly enjoy feeling this way and I haven't since…."

"Neal."

"Forget Neal. I mean—we thank him for giving Henry nice eyes…but it ends there."

"Henry has _your _eyes."

"Whatever, you know what I mean."

"And he has your smile."

"He has _your _personality."

"I certainly hope not."

"Don't say that. I meant it as a good thing."

"You're only person on this planet who would say something so absurd."

"Maybe," Emma agreed. "But I guess that's why you're stuck with me."

"I guess it's why I love you, too. I hope you know that."

"I didn't know. But I'll admit I suspected that you _didn't _hate me."

"I didn't even hate almost killing myself tripping over your boots."

"Huh? What's with you and the boots tonight?"

Regina never thought that a pair of boots—and ones she didn't even find particularly attractive—could change the course of her entire day. She knew it wasn't logical that an inanimate object could cause her to be so emotional. But, then again, nothing about her relationship with Emma was logical. Nothing about it actually made any sense.

"Never mind," she laughed, knowing it would be impossible to explain such an absurd train of thought.

Instead of explaining it, she cupped Emma's face with her hands and brought their lips together.

"_So_," Henry announced his presence, causing them to break apart, "I guess you're not mad I let Emma in without calling you?"

"No, sweetheart—I'm not. In fact, Emma's getting her own key so she can come over whenever she wants to."

"_And_ your mom let us order pizza tonight."

"Yes, that's awesome," their son shrieked before running into the kitchen.

"Do you think he meant your key or the pizza?"

"The pizza," Emma concluded, "most _definitely_ the pizza."

Regina's hand landed on the blonde's knee, resting comfortably there. Every day she was traveling a little bit further outside her comfort zone. Apparently, she had traveled far enough to learn that even the most frustrating day can be turned around by simply ordering pizza with the ones you love.


End file.
